This text is part of:
[430]
gestures and emphatic language that the man was glad to beat a hasty retreat.
He at once started out to find Lincoln, determined to exact from him proper satisfaction for his wife's action.
Lincoln was entertaining a crowd in a store at the time.
The man, still laboring under some agitation, called him to the door and made the demand.
Lincoln listened for a moment to his story.
“My friend,” he interrupted, “I regret to hear this, but let me ask you in all candor, can't you endure for a few moments what I have had as my daily portion for the last fifteen years?”
These words were spoken so mournfully and with such a look of distress that the man was completely disarmed.
It was a case that appealed to his feelings.
Grasping the unfortunate husband's hand, he expressed in no uncertain terms his sympathy, and even apologized for having approached him. He said no more about the infuriated wife, and Lincoln afterward had no better friend in Springfield.
Mr. Lincoln never had a confidant, and therefore never unbosomed himself to others.
He never spoke of his trials to me or, so far as I knew, to any of his friends.
It was a great burden to carry, but he bore it sadly enough and without a murmur.
I could always realize when he was in distress, without being told.
He was not exactly an early riser, that is, he never usually appeared at the office till about nine o'clock in the morning.
I usually preceded him an hour.
Sometimes, however, he would come down as early as seven o'clock--in fact, on one occasion I remember he came down
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.